"It's strange to see her death date and it's years before I was even born," Gavin whispered to himself, a finger rolling over the etched in plaque. "She's so..." he seemed to be struggling to form whatever was flitting through his mind, his hands trailing over the words that summed up the life of the Hero of Ferelden in a few lines.
"At home, my mother was...is --"
"Your mom," Myra shrugged, she glanced up into the stone face while sliding into a lean against the bottom of the statue. "But that's not what people know, or see, or remember I guess, seeing as how she's, uh..."
"Dead," Gavin's voice thudded to the ground. He sounded as if he hated keeping the lie. Was it that he couldn't share it to show just how important he was or the mere idea of lying that bothered him? Myra hoped it was the latter, but she could understand if it was the former. Shit, if her mother stopped a blight she'd hand out pins reminding everyone of it. And that they owed her a copper for it, just 'cause.
"She was 19, just nineteen when she saved the world. Set out with nothing but her wits and..." Gavin's fingers slid over the onyx boot, trailing the swirls of a robe's hem chiseled out of the rock. "I have a lot of catching up to do."
Myra snorted at that. It wasn't funny, the poor guy looked as if he was ripping away his heart to reveal a deep secret, but it was absurd. Everyone was so certain he was trying to be the second to his father, the repeat. But nope, it was that secret mother instead. She drove him to want to be a knight to help people. Though, maybe it was both. Shame her parents weren't big helps on the whole 'here's your life's ambition' options.
"I must be boring you," Gavin whispered, tugging his hands behind his back. He turned from his mother to gaze around at all of the dead woman's stuff. There was a lot of it.
"No," Myra shook her head, "no, no, just...nope. I was, um..." Blighted hell, come up with something. "Got any big plans for later?" He scrunched his eyes up in confusion. "You know, knight stuff. Squire stuff at the behest of your knight. I swear I know how it works. Kinda."
He smirked at her babble, "My life is no longer my own." Sounded like something they'd been beating into the squire's heads even if it was true. Technically, he was owned by the knight who was also owned by her father, so... The thought gave Myra a headache.
"Why do you ask?" Gavin turned to her. He too slumped against his mother's feet, the pair trying to look at but not stare upon each other. It wasn't working so well.
"Just that there's a ton of city left to explore. I was wondering when you'd be free next time. There's a lot of secret places in the alienage I know about. You'll be safe if you go in with me, even if you are a shem." Andraste, she sounded like an idiot trying to appear nonchalant while picking at the dirt under her fingernails. But deep in her chest her heart picked up its beat and ran with it. If Myra grew anymore nervous her feet would start twitching of their own accord.
Gavin, the dorky one, smiled at the thought. "Sounds fun." Sitting up at that, Myra began to smile too. She was about to call it a date when he suddenly tacked on. "Oh, but I will be setting out with the rest of the squires on the Princess' caravan."
"The what?" Myra spun back to him, her mind churning. She hadn't heard a thing about Rosie getting her own caravan.
"I," Gavin's eyelashes fluttered as he seemed to be backtracking fast, "I didn't hear much. But it sounds as if her Majesty will be traveling through the Bannorn and her father, your father, requested a number of knights to accompany her."
Her father, or did Rosamund herself put in the request? Why not? She had literally every available man in Ferelden... Shit, if the princess asked, quite a few men would dump their wives for her hand. But no, the one she had to get all friendly with, bat her pretty eyes at, or swing her hips at, was the only one Myra ever...damn it.
"Myra?" he waved his fingers in front of her face and she blanched at falling into a sneering contest with the wall.
"Right, you, me, we should head back. It'll get dark soon, squires have to be something at night."
He bobbed his head, "In our bunks before lights out."
"Uh huh, that," Myra swiped at the tendrils of hair dangling in front of her face and began to pace towards the door. "So, uh..."
Gavin took one last glance up at his mother and the venom boiling in Myra's gut softened for a moment. "You must miss her," slipped out so fast, when he turned to follow the sound, Myra slapped her hand over her mouth.
"She's already sent me two letters, which arrived on different days but had to have been written one on top of the other," Gavin said. "But yes, I do miss them. I didn't expect to as much."
"First time I was out at the abbey, I was so mad at my mom and dad. I swore the whole carriage ride out I'd never speak to them again but then, when your mom pulled out that talking crystal thing...." Maker's breath Myra, stop blubbering all over him. Boys don't care about girls crying.
Gavin paused a moment, the air growing pregnant with unsaid words. He had those striking amber eyes shut tight. Bryn didn't know the half of what it was like staring into them. It was the anticipation that got to Myra. Watching them dance all over the place like fireflies when he was nervous and, just before he'd kiss her, shut them tight as hard as he could. Sometimes, when Myra was about to kiss him, she'd touch his cheek to startle him so she could stare right into those amber fields only a breath away.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick. Running a hand up and down his arm as if he was trying to hug himself, he smiled half heartedly. Should she do that? Hug him? Before Myra could move, Gavin's voice lifted to its normal timbre, "For the tour. It was nice to see the city, some of the city. At least before I get to see much of Ferelden itself."
"No problem," Myra nodded, following Gavin out of his mother's shrine. She was going on that trip no matter what fits her dad or mom threw. Myra was gonna keep an eye on everyone. "No problem at all."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Obstinate
"What makes you think you have any say in this?"
Myra ignored her mother's prodding as she was too busy yanking out her old traveling case. The damn thing was covered in books because she hadn't used it since she was fourteen. When she went to lift it up to place on her bed, it slipped right out of her hands and crashed against the ground. "What the shit is in here?"
"Myra, we talked about cursing," her mom sighed.
"Yeah, don't do it when shems or the nobs are listening. I got it," Myra waved a hand at her obstinate mother while cracking open her case. "What is all this?" Stuck inside her luggage were folders, piles and piles of folders. Also a handful of daggers. "Mom?"
Her mother stood in the doorway, constantly voicing her opinion about things that didn't concern her like a very annoying bird. At the sight of Myra's overfilled case, Reiss tipped her chin up and grimaced. "It's old case files."
"Why are they in my things?"
"They needed to go somewhere," her mom said as if it was the only logical answer in all of thedas.
"So," Myra struggled to hurl a handful out but the damn thing was packed. Grunting, she snarled, "keep them in your apartment. My shit's mine!"
"Which I bought for you."
Myra rolled her eyes and very deliberately got behind her case. Placing both hands against it, she said, "Pretty sure dad bought this one, right before you shipped me off to magic school." With all her might, Myra shoved the wooden trunk right at her mother. Reiss didn't move until Myra was almost on top of her, but either aware that her daughter wasn't going to stop or afraid she couldn't, she got out of the way. Upon reaching her mother's desk area that was always covered in everything: files, evidence, dioramas, ideas, food, Myra walked around her trunk and eyed up Reiss.
"Stay out of my shit," she snarled. Putting her back into it, she grabbed onto the bottom of her trunk. Grunting and straining, Myra tipped the chest upward causing folders to spill free like water out of a tank.
"Myra Sayer!" Reiss shouted, but it was too late. They were all coming out.
Digging in
tighter, Myra got a better grip below and tipped her trunk higher until it was perpendicular with the floor. A tidal wave of old paperwork spread across every available walking space, swarming up to both Myra's and her mom's ankles. Rather proud of her accomplishment, Myra dropped her trunk down and picked it up by the handle. "Much better," she smiled at how light it was. Not caring what old case she stepped on, Myra walked over her mother's work to return to her room.
"Myra Sayer Theirin!"
You could hear a pin drop as every voice in the agency stopped. People were used to Reiss and Myra getting into it, her mom always trying the dreaded middle name approach. But when she pulled out her dad's name, well... Things were about to go full blight. Too bad Myra wasn't some scrawny twelve year old terrified of her mother's Voice-of-the-Maker routine. She was still scrawny, but was way taller than her mom.
"What? What, mom? Is it only acceptable for you to leave your crap all over my stuff if it's yours?"
"You're being unreasonable," her mother hissed, red rising upon her cheeks and forehead as she gripped tight to her arms.
"How? By wanting my own space? By wanting to do what I want? Tell me when I get to the unreasonable part, mom. Cause I ain't exactly asking to go get a tattoo and join with a marauding gang of pirates!"
"She makes a fair point..." a voice swung in with a parry, but her mother spun on her heels and snarled.
"Stay out of this, Lunet! She's my daughter..."
"Aye," Lunet dug a finger in her ear and sighed, "and we're your employees who are forced to suffer these constant little displays of rebellion. Ne'er mind the customers you two send scurrying for the door. Heard one time it got so bad a guy ran all the way back to his mum and pleaded for her forgiveness."
Reiss turned her death stare upon her oldest friend instead of her daughter who could give it back. "My child is misbehaving." Myra snorted at that and clomped back into her room. With a great heave, she cracked open her chest and began to drop her clothes inside. Three months didn't seem that long, but it sounded like she'd have to be prepared for anything on the road.
"She's growing up," Lunet sighed, a hand extended towards Myra who blinked at the unexpected help. Auntie Lunet was good for a laugh, but in such matters she always took her mom's side cause she paid her salary.
"She's only seventeen," Reiss snapped back with.
"She's right here and can hear you both."
"Oh, so now your ears are working, because you seemed incapable of hearing me every time I told you no."
Myra lifted up her free hand and clasped her fingers to her thumb repeatedly while rolling her eyes. She heard a snarl from her mother for that, and Lunet groaned, "A'right, she's still a right shit, but she's a bigger shit. You got to let her go at some point."
"Lune, I swear to the Maker, if you start telling me about baby birds and nests I will..." Reiss waved a hand under her nose. That was her mother, always right to the threats. Couldn't let a single person be right and her wrong. That'd go against the natural order or something.
"What'd your dad say?" Lunet shouted to Myra.
"Guess."
"No go unless your mom agrees? Sounds like the policy he'd take. I think he did the same thing with Kirkwall," Lunet sighed, tipping her head up.
"And I didn't say you could, young lady," Reiss called back in.
Myra didn't care. She was old enough, she could just leave. Hop onto a wagon without anyone the wiser. She knew how to avoid Karelle's checks, how to blend in. Bryn was gonna be there too, she'd help her hide. She was going, and with every word against it from her mother Myra grew more determined. Nothing, not even darkspawn, would keep her away.
"Well too bad, Mum, because I can do whatever I want."
"Ah!" her mother cried, her fists balled up as she waved them at the sky. No doubt she often begged the Maker for assistance with her wayward daughter. As if Myra was so bad. She didn't lap up any of the medicines for fun, barely had alcohol aside from the occasional need to blow off steam, and certainly never wound up knocked up. That would be....
Silently fuming, Myra dropped more of her clothes into the trunk, trying to leave a furrow so she could jam a few rolls of socks in the middle. She was going. Even if her mother tried to lock her in her room she could get out. Jorel taught her how to pick locks when she was only ten. Or there was the window. There were lots of ways for Myra to...
"Why do you want to go?" her mother's frustrated voice vanished to be replaced by a soft one of confusion.
Myra put in the last of her underwear and tried to close the lid. There was a good inch plus gap that wouldn't reach the lock. "Rosie's going," she said as if that was enough of an explanation. And if Rosie were to jump off a cliff you'd follow? She girded herself for that logical sword but it didn't come.
Her mom slid into the room and dropped an elbow on top of the trunk. "You know she has to. It's part of her duty..."
"Cause she's his real daughter and I'm--"
"Myra," Reiss spat out, grabbing onto her hands, "you're his real daughter too."
"There's real and then there's really real. You know it, I know it, Lunet sure as shit knows it," Myra jabbed a finger out at the woman that was trying to slink away. They all danced around it, her dad often stopping by the agency as goofy Alistair. Everyone treated them as father and daughter, nothing weird about it, but life wasn't just lived here. She couldn't pretend that Myra was as legitimate as Rosie and Cailan. It was stupid. It wasn't real. It was all a fantasy world she could play in sometimes.
"You don't know what it'll be like," Reiss sighed.
She wanted to spit back that she knew better than her mom. While Myra was up at castle functions shaking off the rumors from behind hands and curt words, her mom was always hiding. Either down here in her work or behind closed doors with her father. She didn't care, didn't want to fight against it all because her mom was too weak. Well, this was the only life Myra had.
"Then," Myra snorted, "I guess I'll learn."
"Da'saan," her mother whispered, snapping Myra right to attention. She rarely used elvish unless some shit was about to go down. Sheepishly, Myra's eyes darted over to her mother's missing ear and old pain rattled up her throat. Suddenly she didn't want to go. What if something happened to her again? There wouldn't be anyone here to protect her!
Reiss wrapped a hand around Myra, tugging her daughter into a hug. "Watch yourself. You will be on trial at all times," her mom tried to tuck back Myra's long tendrils of hair behind her human ears. "But you'll have your brother and sister to watch your back."
"You..." Myra blinked, her hands shaking, "you're saying I can go?"
"I seem to be unable to stop you," Reiss shrugged. With both hands, her mom heaved onto the overloaded trunk. It was just enough to join the clasp and Myra could finally lock it down. As the pair staggered back, her mom sighed, "You know I only do what I do to keep you safe."
"I know," she nodded, having been given this speech many times by both her mom and dad. "But mom, the world's not nice."
For a brief second, her mother's finger curled over the knob of scar tissue that took half of her hearing from her. "No, it's not." The elf stared at her all but shem daughter a bit longer before sighing to shake away the sentiment. All business, Reiss stood up and marched to her desk. "You'll be sending me letters once a week. One to your father as well. Keep to the schedule and do not wander away from the caravan group alone, especially in any of the smaller towns."
"Yes, ma'am," Myra nodded her head, her heart filling with excitement. She was really going to go. A proper trip without anyone getting in the way. Eee!
"Bring back something for your father," her mom continued to dole out orders, when a voice coughed from behind the screen, "and Lunet."
"I prefer things that come in bottles, preferably of a red variety from near South Reach."
"She's not a blighted merchant, Lune," Reiss bit back, both of them tearing into each other good naturedly.
Myra gripped tight to
her braid, her finger following the plaits as she kept trying to slow the beat of her heart. This was really happening. No more being the king's brat, or the Solver's copy. She could be her own person, Myra -- potential mage to the crown. Or however it worked. Dad was rather cagey about the old arcane advisors courts would have for some reason.
"And Myra," her mother punctured through her hazy imagination, "clean up this damn mess you made."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
White Rabbit
Gavin was glad to be out of the city. One part of him felt it shouldn't be so. His whole life was spent out on the fringes, only interacting with a handful of new people during market day or on his rare trips into the village. Getting to Denerim seemed an impossible dream, even the people living in the palace were more than Gavin could possibly hope to remember. But once they set out in their long line of wagons, carriages, riders, and the walkers filling out the ranks, his heart felt at peace.
While the higher born would gawp at the road, as if they hadn't set foot outside their own city in years, Gavin fell into an easy pattern. He knew exactly how much energy he should expend in order to keep walking for miles. Above him, his knight sat perched upon her horse, taking the animal at a slow gait while her eyes peered around at the caravan. She seemed surprised he didn't throw a fuss about being told to walk. A few of the squires were on horseback, but most were told to walk same as Gavin. If anyone should be kicking up a fuss it was Snowy, who seemed to have vanished towards the back of the line.
But little could get that dwarf down really, and he'd been happy to pick up a great pack and chase after a horse at twice the speed of the long legged humans. Cal was here too, and a few of their group, but he'd left Gavin alone. The name seemed to throw the boy off, as if he kept expecting Gavin to suddenly yank out a sword of the Inquisition and declare Cal to be beheaded. There was also the time the King wandered past the squire ring just to talk to that shit farmer.
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